


Rhodes Scholar Anthology

by RadiationGroove



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M, Infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:35:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiationGroove/pseuds/RadiationGroove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of short works taking place within the confines of "Rhodes Scholar"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How you said ‘I love you’- Broken, as you clutch the sleeve of my jacket and beg me not to leave

Destruction loomed over their heads. It was their preface and epilogue; prayers begged the universe for a sequel. 

He didn't understand, couldn't understand. Hancock knew his Sweet Adeline was an agent of the Railroad, knew she and the rest of the rag-tag gang were working hard to make the Commonwealth a better place. It was admirable. It was an urge they shared. 

He didn't understand the secrecy. She played things closer to the vest now, shared less and less with each passing day. Distance crawled across her sharp features, seeped into the gathering wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, the gray hairs sprouting at her temples. Whatever Adeline held within her chest was changing her. 

Least of all Hancock didn't understand why Adeline was arming herself, working so intently on her armor, haggling for Stimpaks. He didn't understand, not initially, what she meant when she said she had to leave and he couldn't come with her. 

“Say that again, Ad? I musta misheard you, goin’ on some big mission that you ain't tellin’ me shit about and I'm not goin’ with you?”

“Nope. Heard me just fine, John.” The lack of eye contact was concerning, he decided; the focus with which she checked over her weapons? Even more so. “I’m going. You’re staying. End of story.”

The ghoul hummed, clearly a displeased sound in the back of his throat. “Well...that’s bullshit. Why not?”

“Because, okay? Just...leave it alone.” The Vault Dweller holstered her small arms, stuffed her pockets full of stimpaks (he’d prefer to see her take Med-X, but the chem never sat well with Adeline at the end of the day), and tightened the straps of her armor. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Adeline.” Her name was sharp, a command on Hancock’s tongue. The tone was ill-received; eyes greener than a Super Mutant narrowed at the thought of being barked at like a member of his Neighborhood Watch. Hancock sighed, resigning against her stubbornness. “At least tell me where? I wanna make sure you’re gonna be safe, Sweet Adeline.”

That name. It held such weight across the Commonwealth. It was part of her that Hancock loved, a ruthless subspecies of Adeline Rhodes that warranted fear among raiders and would-be troublemakers. He loved the irony of it all. 

“John,” Adeline huffed, voice laced with frustration. “I can't. I wish I could...Listen, I’ll be fine. Deacon’s gonna have my back and-”

“Deacon...” The growl beneath the name spoke volumes. He didn’t enjoy her partner’s company, and the feeling was mutual. Neither man trusted the other, especially with regards to the precious cargo that was Adeline. “Figured.”

There was no time left for arguing; Adeline and the rest of the Railroad had to make their move while the Institute was distracted or lose their window completely. Nerves were on edge after the attack on HQ and losing Glory. The team were running on fumes of adrenaline after destroying the Prydwen and the bulk majority of the Brotherhood of Steel. The tension hit the Vault Dweller like a ton of bricks; losing people was too easy. The less Hancock knew, the better. For him. 

“I have to go.” 

She needed distance between them, to keep her resolve, and widened her stride. She'd nearly reached the creaking spiral staircase when a ruined hand clutched her sleeve. 

“You're gonna walk away, just like that? Just walk out? Damn it, Adeline!” The anger she was braced for; the crack in his voice and the waiver that followed? Less so. “I love you, and I dunno where you're goin’ or if I'm gonna see you again.” Something in his voice was hopeless, fearful. “Please, Ad. Stay. Or let me come with you.”

This man. For all her necessary cruelties, Adeline couldn't stand hearing him so sad. A pivot on her heel and she faced him, heart threatening to cleave in two. He clung to her coat like child to parent, gnarled fingers wound tightly. Distress, clear as day and sharp as a radstorm, settled into his face. John Hancock was having none of this. Thin fingers curled around his and Adeline pried his hand from her sleeve. She closed the gap between them, planting her palms against his cheeks. The center of her brow furrowed; once upon a time her mother would have scolded her for fear of wrinkles.

“I need you to do this for me. I need you to stay put and let me go.” This soft voice felt unfamiliar. Nothing about Adeline Rhodes was ever gentle. “I'm doing something important, John.” She kissed him, sweet and chaste, over and over. His arms made to encircle her waist; Adeline moved away. 

“I gotta go. I'll come back.”

Just like that she was gone, rushing down the spiral staircase and out the door before her resolve faltered any further. Hancock could only stand dumbly at the railing and wait for the page to turn.


	2. Damages Done

Desdemona does it when she thinks no one is looking.

It takes some doing, but they put HQ and the Old North Church above back together. They assess the damage done by Brotherhood soldiers. They send runners in every direction across the Commonwealth, trying to figure out if  safe houses were hit, if any of their synthetic charges have been harmed. In the meantime, they plan their next move, their retaliation. They dump the Brotherhood bodies unceremoniously in the river once they salvage what they can: armor, weaponry, tech, every scrap nut and bolt.

They bury their dead.

The bodies are few, yet significant. It’s a handful of runners, agents, tourists…and, most notably, Glory. It’s jarring, to see them all laid out, to see friend and coworker still and cold. Charmer doesn’t know every name, but she knows every face; he’d sat at a desk and cursed over his reports, she had a tendency to drop everything she touched, much to Carrington’s displeasure. They don’t lack space; the catacombs around them serve as a constant reminder of loss in the face of fighting for freedom.

For Adeline, it’s more difficult to see how the team reacts. Deacon is Deacon, virtually unreadable behind the shades. Whatever is going on in his head, he doesn’t let on. Carrington is distant, his brain constantly working and trying to move forward. Tom cries, full body sobs that leave him inconsolable and turning to his chems to try to forget. Desdemona… Dez tries not to feel anything, hiding behind a cloud as she chain smokes pack upon pack a day.

They all agree they have a job to do. Synths within the Institute’s walls need them. They have to go on.

Desdemona does it when she thinks no one is watching. She stands with her back to her agents, tucked away in a dark corner. Her team is busy; Tom has his nose buried in some sort of manual, P.A.M. is running analysis and calculating variables. _Red Glare_ is go. Adeline notices their fearless leader, the tremble in her hand as she takes up the chalk, the vice grip as she presses the stick to the chalkboard and draws an uneven line through Glory’s name.


End file.
